


painted red

by 10softbot



Series: twenty biteen kink fest [11]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Finger Sucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wild Card Square, Writing on the Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/pseuds/10softbot
Summary: It was only suppposed to be a normal schedule, but Johnny has no control over this nasty mouth of his.





	painted red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetpeche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/gifts).

> read: i went feral over johndo posting on twitter this friday. happy birthday again, any!!!!  
slot fill for writing on the body and the wild card, which i'm using for doyoung's oral fixation
> 
> do not repost or translate without permission and the whole shbang

The ride back home is quiet, as it is after every schedule.

There is faint music playing in the background, through the van’s speakers but Doyoung can’t really pay any mind to it. It’s not unusual for the atmosphere to be like this, with them quietly on their respective phones as the vehicle drives through Apgujeong and into Gangnam.

The thing is, Doyoung can’t stop his brain from running wild. It’s not really his fault, honestly. He can definitely blame it on the man sitting right next to him, head heavy on his shoulder. He hates how Johnny can act so nonchalant when his own body feels like it is being set on fire, his cheeks burning despite how hard he tries to concentrate on his social media feed.

Every little movement jolts him in his seat, and it’s especially bad when Johnny presses his thigh against his. Doyoung curses under his breath, knowing there is nowhere he can run to when he is already pressed against the door.

“Can you,” he huffs, trying to push Johnny off him to no avail, “give me some space god _dammit_.”

Johnny hums, pressing closer. “I’m not doing anything, though?”

Johnny knows perfectly well what he is doing. He has known what he was doing ever since he cornered Doyoung backstage in the festival, thigh pressed firmly between his legs. He has known what he was doing since he murmured filth into his ear and got him blushing, and Doyoung hasn’t been able to make his heart stop racing ever since.

It gets worse when their manager goes into the building first, leaving them behind and Johnny can’t keep his fucking hands to himself, palming Doyoung through his pants as they want in the elevator and right before their front door.

Stifling his moans is harder when they walk into their apartment and everyone else is asleep, pure silence greeting them as their manager walk to his room. Johnny guides him through the dark with a hand closed tight around his wrist, eagerness pulsing through his veins.

“You’re lucky,” Doyoung murmurs, knowing damn well none of them is near lucky. “You’re so lucky your room is vacant right now.”

Johnny laughs, airily. “Is it fate? Or is it luck?”

Doyoung smacks him on the chest when they stop right in front of Johnny’s bedroom door. “Quit joking. I’m seriously going to end you if you keep this up any longer, John.”

“What are you gonna do?” Johnny asks, a smirk on his face as he closes the bedroom door behind them. Doyoung can feel his heart thrumming in his chest. “Suck my dick until I say I’m sorry?”

Doyoung barks a laugh. “You wish. But,” Doyoung presses forward, pushing Johnny towards his bed, “you see, I wasn’t the one riling you up backstage, Youngho.”

Johnny gives him a crooked smile. “You make my job too easy.”

“Your job,” Doyoung punctuates with a jab to his chest, “was to MC the festival and nothing else. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You look good in formal wear,” Johnny shrugs, bring his hand up to cup his face, “can you really blame me?”

“Yes,” Doyoung breathes out in a failed attempt to stop Johnny’s advances on him. “Don’t know what’s the matter with you.”

Johnny laughs. “You’re gonna tell me you didn’t get a very vivid image of me fucking you open with my fingers backstage?”

Doyoung tries not to mind the way his dick presses uncomfortably against the zipper of his slacks. He pushes Johnny, making him fall back on his bed. Doyoung can see Johnny is just as hard, though he doesn’t seem nearly as bothered.

“No,” he lies. “I got a very vivid image of me murdering you with my bare hands.”

Johnny reaches out, pulling him close by the beltloops of his slacks, a coy smile on his face. Doyoung knows Johnny knows he is lying, the color of his cheeks certainly giving it away. His heart thrums in his chest when Johnny’s fingers start working on his best, unbuckling it with so much ease Doyoung can’t even look away.

It’s odd to be like this, looking down at Johnny for once, but he doesn’t mind it all that much. Johnny is beautiful, even more so when his eyes are clouded with lust and lips shiny with balm, just like right now.

Doyoung reaches down, threads his fingers through Johnny’s hair and Johnny leans into the touch, humming when Doyoung’s nails scrape his scalp. Johnny works on his pants, slowly unbuttoning the slacks and dragging the zipper down, making sure it presses hard against Doyoung’s boner.

“Quit teasing,” Doyoung whines, low, gripping Johnny’s hair just a little bit tighter.

“Thought you wanted to murder me?” Johnny says with a smile, getting back up on his feet. Doyoung hates how easily Johnny towers over him, how he has to crane his neck when Johnny cups his face with his hands and brings him in for a kiss.

Kissing Johnny always feels like it’s the first time, pleasure zipping down his spine as Johnny licks into his mouth. It feels like time stops for a moment, like there is no one else but them in the world– as cliché as that sounds.

Johnny is warm against his tongue, the faint taste of the mint candy they were offered still lingering as he kisses Doyoung silly. Doyoung doesn’t try to fight back, instead lets his hands fall to Johnny’s own belt, unbuckling it just as easily, dropping it to the floor with a loud clunk.

“Eager much?” Johnny murmurs against his lips, tongue running over his top lip.

Doyoung fumbles with the button and zipper, whining in frustration when it gets caught halfway down. “If you don’t get my clothes off within the next minute I’m going back into my room.”

Johnny works on the buttons of his dress shirt with deft fingers, lips littering his jaw and neck with kisses. Doyoung tries to do the same, though he doesn’t manage to get past the third button before Johnny is pushing the fabric off his shoulders and letting it pool around his ankles.

Johnny’s hands are firm against his back, pulling him closer, so impossibly close Doyoung can feel the buttons digging into his bare skin. Johnny is hot, feels almost feverish as he roams his hands up and down his back, nails scraping lightly over the exposed skin, lips working on sucking a hickey right under his jaw.

His dick aches when he thinks of being marked up like that.

Johnny pulls away for the briefest of seconds, quickly working on the remaining buttons of his own shirt and tossing it off to a far corner of his room. He shimmies off his slacks and Doyoung does the same, cheeks burning when he sees the dark patch on the front of Johnny’s underwear.

“Like what you see?” Johnny asks, teasing. Doyoung hadn’t realized he was staring.

“Shut up,” he bites, no real heat to it.

“Get in bed.”

Johnny steps around him, making his way to his dresser across the room and Doyoung does just that. It is only now, as he rests his head on Johnny’s pillow, that he realizes Johnny probably had this planned all along– his plushies, often neatly organized along his bed, now sit on top if his dresser, a tight fit along all his clutter.

Doyoung snorts to himself, fingers tracing mindless patterns on his stomach as he watches Johnny rummage through his drawers. Johnny huffs, frustrated, closing the last drawer with a loud bang.

When he turns around, there is a deep furrow set between his brows. “Do you have lube? And condoms?”

Doyoung scoffs, propping up on his elbow. “I thought you had planned this?”

“Well, I did, but,” he ruffles his hair, clearly stressed, “I didn’t think I’d ran out of it already.”

Doyoung sighs. “Well, genius, I don’t. I can’t believe you riled me up for nothing.”

“Yuta must have some,” Johnny says, walking to the door. “Stay put.”

“It’s already past ten!” Doyoung calls out when Johnny is already halfway through the door. “Are you sure you’re gonna barge into his room?”

“If Taeil can handle it every day I’m sure I can handle it for a minute.”

Doyoung knows there is no arguing when Johnny closes the door behind him. He lays back down, allows his eyes to flutter shut and focuses on himself. He traces his fingers over his chest, fingertips ghosting over his nipples and he imagines it is Johnny’s instead. He grazes the buds, already hard and sensitive, a small whine falling from his lips when he twists them between his fingers.

He keeps going down, goosebumps raising on the wake of his hand as he touches down his chest and to his stomach, fingers playing with the elastic band of his boxers. He chooses not to slip them in, instead palms himself through the thin layer of fabric. He gasps at the touch, at the way precum soaks through the fabric, the way his dick twitches under his hand.

He gives his dick a firm, tentative squeeze. He bucks into his hand, his gasps turning into moans when he does it again, firmer and more certain this time, slowly turning his squeezes into strokes. It feels good, the rubbing of fabric rough on sensitive skin but pleasurable nonetheless. He gets so lost into it he doesn’t register the bedroom door clicking shut.

Johnny doesn’t say anything and Doyoung startles when he gets into bed and settles by his feet, nudging his legs for Doyoung to spread them open for him. Doyoung does, gladly, hand never stopping his ministrations on his cock even as Johnny drags his body further up the bed, shoulders under Doyoung’s knees.

“Having fun without me?” he whispers, wrapping his arms around Doyoung’s legs and digging his nails into his thighs, holding him in place. Doyoung hums, eyes still closed, the ghost of Johnny’s breath on his skin making him shiver.

Johnny places a kiss on his inner thigh, soft and tender, much unlike the hold he has on Doyoung and Doyoung whines low in his throat. Johnny worships his body with his mouth, kisses his inner thighs until they’re covered in saliva and blooming red marks.

Doyoung thumbs at his cockhead through his underwear, groaning when Johnny sinks his teeth into his thigh once again and he can feel precum ooze from the slit. It’s too much and not nearly enough, his free hand going down to tangle into Johnny’s hair, tugging him up. Johnny goes easily and Doyoung chokes up when he finally opens his eyes again.

Johnny’s lips are red and spit slick and so is his chis, his hair a mess and eyes hazy. Doyoung pulls him into another kiss, tongue licking along the seam of Johnny’s lips and Johnny parts easily for him, moaning when Doyoung’s tongue slides against his.

“Please,” Doyoung whispers, desperate. “Please fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Johnny breathes out with a nod, fingers immediately hooking into the waistband of his underwear to tug it down.

“Did you get it?” Doyoung remembers to ask once his underwear is off, remembering Johnny had actually gone off on a mission. “How did Yuta not kill you?”

“I did,” Johnny laughs a little, fetching his pillow from under Doyoung’s head. “You don’t wanna know what I had to see.”

Doyoung lifts his hips when Johnny nudges his side, the pillow plush under his ass when he settles back down. “Was it that bad?”

“Do you want to know?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow, uncapping the bottle of lube he has in his hand. “Is this some weird kind of foreplay?”

Doyoung kicks him lightly, fingers circling around the base of his cock. He is so hard it hurts, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes when he fists himself once, twice. Johnny settles between his legs again, spreads him apart with a clean hand, teasing the lubed one over his balls and down his perineum.

The push of the first finger makes Doyoung sigh, grip tight on his cock as Johnny slowly works him open.

“Relax,” Johnny tells him, a reminder, running his hand up and down his thigh soothingly. “Remember to breathe,” and Doyoung does, exhales so hard his chest hurts. He licks his lips, nervous, trying his best to relax under Johnny’s touch.

Johnny pushes in up to the last knuckle and Doyoung whines, already wanting more, _needing_ more. He hates to get whiny, to seem like he is begging, but he can’t really help it when the thought of Johnny’s thick cock makes his mouth water and his thighs tremble.

So he begs. “Please,” his voice is airy, like he is out of his damn mind. “Please, Johnny. More.”

“Be patient,” Johnny reprimands but presses the tip of his middle finger against his rim anyway, slowly pressing in. Doyoung shudders when he heaves a sigh, allowing his walls to relax to make room for the addition.

The stretch barely stings, used to accommodate Johnny’s fingers at this point. Johnny has his body mapped out in his head, fucks him open with practiced ease, dragging the pads of his fingers against his walls. Doyoung moans, low but unfiltered, fucking his fist just a tad bit faster when Johnny starts scissoring his fingers.

“Johnny,” he breathes, his moan turning into a cry when Johnny presses his fingers against his prostate. Doyoung squirms, back arching off the bed and vision spotting white. “Fuck.”

“You love running your mouth, don’t you?” Johnny is unrelenting, constantly rubbing his finger against the sensitive spot. Doyoung can feel the tips of his toes starting to go numb. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I hate you,” he breathes out, shaking when Johnny pulls his fingers back just enough to press a third in.

Johnny chuckles. “That’s not very nice of you to say when I’m about to fuck you so good.”

Doyoung is impatient, fingers now tight around the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, toes curling into Johnny’s bedding. “Then hurry!”

But Johnny still takes his time, toys with him until he deems Doyoung ready enough, fingers pressing on all the right spots, nearly making him cry. Johnny bends down, pressing a light kiss to his stomach, tongue dipping into his navel and making him laugh.

And then finally, finally he is pulling back, wiping his fingers clean on his boxers and Doyoung feels like he could cry. It’s so close, the sound of the foiled condom pack being ripped open loud in the otherwise quiet room, Doyoung’s panting the only other noise to fill up the space.

“I have something for you,” Doyoung can hear the smile on Johnny’s face and Doyoung reopens his eyes in time to see him rolling on the condom on his dick. Doyoung can feel his mouth water at the sight.

Johnny gets off bed momentarily, reaching for his slacks. Doyoung watches with curious eyes as Johnny looks through the pockets, brows raising when he fishes out a black, shiny tube.

“What is this?” he asks, lazily stroking his cock, thumbing at the precum on the head.

“I thought,” Johnny gets back into bed, “since I can’t mark you up badly, why not have some fun?” He uncaps the tube to reveal a bright red lipstick, brand new. Doyoung doesn’t even have the energy to ask where and how he got his hands on that, disbelief washing over his body. “What do you say?”

“I really just want you to fuck me, John.”

“Perfect!” Doyoung hates how eager he sounds, but it is kind of endearing. “And also, tonight I want you to watch.” Doyoung cocks his head, confused. Johnny points to the mirror strategically placed on the end of his bed.

Doyoung had never really understood why he put that mirror there after they moved, but it makes sense now.

He stays still as Johnny’s larger figure looms over his body, one hand propped right next to his head as the other works the lipstick on his body. Doyoung watches as Johnny’s eyes glisten with joy, as his lips pull into a thin line as the creamy product smears over his chest.

“Come,” Johnny says with a pat on his hip, pulling the pillow from under his body. Doyoung sits up, lets Johnny maneuver his body around until he is on all four. He doesn’t look into the mirror just yet.

The press of Johnny’s cockhead against his rim makes him shiver, head hanging low between his shoulders as he tries to relax at the intrusion. It feels like air is being squeezed off his lungs, the stretch stinging in a way Johnny’s fingers would never.

“Doyoung,” Johnny calls for him, a gentle hand on his hip as he steadies himself. Doyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Relax, baby.”

“Don’t _‘baby’_ me,” he huffs, fingers digging into the mattress, knuckles going white as he tries to relax. “Why do I keep forgetting just how fucking _big_ you are?”

Johnny doesn’t stop pushing until he is buried to the hilt and Doyoung feels fucking full, Johnny’s cock searing him open. He can feel Johnny’s dick pulse in his ass, can feel Johnny’s legs shake where they press against the backs of his thighs, trying to stay still.

Doyoung doesn’t think he is going to last, his own cock dripping between his legs, the coiling in his stomach getting tighter and tighter as Johnny presses relentlessly against his prostate.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, arms tired of holding himself up already. Johnny snakes an arm around his middle, presses his chest against his back and Doyoung can’t help but moan when his lips press kisses to the back of his neck.

And then Johnny is hauling him up, making him look into the mirror and Doyoung gasps, both at the way his cock shifts inside his ass and at the sight.

On his chest, painted red in big, block letters, is the word _WHORE_. Doyoung can feel his entire body burning up, can see the blush spreading over his skin as Johnny stares at him through the mirror.

“Beautiful,” Johnny whispers, lips right to his ear, breath hot against his skin. He pulls back, not even halfway, slowly rocking his hips and fucking back in. Doyoung moans, eyes fluttering shut at the drag of Johnny’s cock against his walls. Johnny grips him tightly by the jaw. “I want you to watch.”

Doyoung tries to leave his eyes open, struggling between gasps as Johnny fucks him with quick and sharp snaps of his hips. His hipbones dig into Doyoung’s ass with every thrust and Doyoung loves it, the dull pain added with the sting of being fucked open making his head spin. He can’t take his eyes off them, off the way Johnny’s arm around his chest smears the red lipstick all over, or the way Johnny’s hair sticks to his forehead when he starts to sweat.

He can’t take his eyes off the way his dick is a bright shade of red, dripping precum on the sheets, the way his face and chest blush just as vividly as he moans Johnny’s name like a prayer. And then Johnny is pressing his fingers to his lips, forcing them in as he hushes him up, tells him to keep quiet.

“Just because they know we’re fucking,” Johnny pants, stilling his hips and pressing his fingers on his tongue and down his throat, his cockhead against his prostate and Doyoung chokes, saliva running down his chin, “doesn’t mean they need to hear us.”

Doyoung moans around his fingers when he picks up where he left off, Johnny chasing his own orgasm with every snap of his hips. Doyoung focuses on the fingers in his mouth, rolls his tongue over the digits until Johnny is moaning low in his ear, pushing them further in until Doyoung gags.

Johnny lets go of his hip to reach for his cock, and Doyoung would be embarrassed with the way it only takes a few quick strokes for him to come if he hadn’t been so turned on for hours now. He comes with a broken sob choked by Johnny’s fingers in his mouth, spilling hot over Johnny’s hand and staining his dark sheets.

Johnny fucks him through his orgasm until he is shaking, until he is begging him to stop because of overstimulation and Johnny does just that, letting go of his dick when he is sure there is no more release to spill.

Doyoung whines when Johnny pulls out, body collapsing when his arms and legs feel too weak to hold himself up. He watches through the mirror as Johnny rips off the condom and straddles his legs with his own. He watches as Johnny fists himself to release, wrist flicking sharply until he shudders and comes with a low, dragged out moan.

His cum feels hot where it sticks to the back of Doyoung’s thighs and his ass, as well as his lower back and Doyoung can’t help but feel dirty.

“Fuck you,” Doyoung spits out, chest still heaving when Johnny climbs off him.

Johnny laughs, reaching for his towel hanging on the back of his door. “Maybe next time?”

Doyoung huffs, tired. “Bet.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have no words
> 
> [twitter](twitter.com/10softbot)  
[curiouscat](curiouscat.me/10softbot)


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